


A Horrible Infestation of the Stomach Bug

by LegendofMajora



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 12:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3380768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegendofMajora/pseuds/LegendofMajora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shizuo, for once, finds himself with a stomach bug. Too bad Izaya doesn't seem to care, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Horrible Infestation of the Stomach Bug

Lying in bed all day usually is what Izaya does—lazy bastard. So when this comes to term of not really being sure why his stomach is killing him, Shizuo decides to take a day off as soon as the cramping pain stops. Calling Tom has never been this uncomfortable.

Speaking of the flea, he's lying in bed next to Shizuo, still asleep and the beast, unlike the manipulative little shit, has no intention of waking Izaya when he desperately needs sleep. Slipping in from the window last night Izaya can try to play it off like Shizuo wouldn't know, asleep in bed, but Shizuo is smarter than he seems. He knows by the telltale click of the lock being picked and the screech of the window pane sliding open. Ruffle the sheets with the careful movements, it's two in the morning and Shizuo has learned that sleeping light is a side effect of being too close to Izaya for too long.

But one of the perks is that the flea is an excellent cuddler. As if drawn to heat the same way moths are drawn to light, it doesn't take long for the invasive scent of the flea to wrap around Shizuo's sheets and himself as well, staining his nose even if this is his apartment. The only one to enter a beast's den and refuse to leave until he leaves a mark. Not subtle at all in shuffling close to Shizuo, ironic because Izaya mainly avoids too close of contact between them. Skittish little freak, and a horrible liar.

Five in the morning means calling Tom, saying he can't come in to work today because he's not feeling well and it's certainly one of those rare times where he can sound like he's almost normal over the phone. Tom at least has the courtesy of giving him the day off, reminding him to get well soon and Shizuo slumps back in bed, having kept his voice down for the entire call. Though the silence doesn't last, nausea splashing up the sides of his stomach until it's too much to keep in, and the bathroom will never be close enough.

Izaya remains in bed, completely unaware which is unlike him as soon as Shizuo can trudge back, holding one hand over his abdomen and moving to sit on his original side, knowing Izaya to take up any space left unclaimed. Watching black hair in a stark contrast, slide over the expanse of the second white pillow there, is something Shizuo can get lost staring at. Well, Izaya himself is always a fascinating and horrifying subject to admire, if Shizuo can even call it that. Not much can be done, however, for the cramping pain of his stomach turning itself inside out with blocked sinuses and a headache to boot.

Trying to go back to sleep seems plausible, all until the next wave of nausea that creeps up and takes hostage of Shizuo's stomach, bitterly torturing every organ within reach for the spasming pain of his muscles squeezing the life out of himself. A death trap in his own body, even if it's just for no reason whatsoever. He doesn't get sick, so the entire experience is completely unprecedented. The last time he remembers any feeling similar is being ten and sick for a few days. This time doesn't compare on a mile long stretch. Just holding on to his stomach, pressing one hand over the waves of agony, doesn't do much but try to keep the nausea from climbing back up his throat.

"Shizu-chan, what are you doing...?" Izaya's voice comes from beside him in the pursuit of trying to get comfortable, body lying still and looking nearly dead if not for the fact his back was rising and falling in slower breaths. Shizuo reached out a hand, stroking black strands on the back of Izaya's head and still having the thought as to why Izaya would sleep on his stomach so often. "It's too early to be alive. Go die." Snappy little sleep-deprived piece of shit.

"Would if I could," another wave of nausea distorts his words, keening forward with a groan. This time Izaya glances up from a cracked eyelid, Shizuo still having one listless hand in his hair and the other tightly wound around his stomach. Confused by the sight, Izaya sighs as he forces himself to turn over, fingers of his left hand lacing with the hand once in his hair and propping his neck on the pillow to observe the blond beast. The grasp of his hand feels weaker than usual, the prospect already annoying Izaya for having to deal with something wrong when all he wants is sleep.

"Ne, what's eating Shizu-chan so early?" Izaya doesn't bother glancing at a clock, tightening his fingers in Shizuo's to see what happens and disappointed when the blond grunts something unintelligible. Well, he's never been one for words. Or being human, but neither has Izaya.

He doesn't get an answer, realizing it by the time Shizuo slides to lie on his stomach and his breaths are starting to even out that perhaps it's best not to push for one until the beast can sleep some more. Turning again he switches his left hand with his right, still managing to interlock their fingers because he'll claim that Shizu-chan likes it too much and it keeps him from crushing Izaya. One little lifeline, like string attached to their fingers in pulling their hands together with Shizuo being an enormous heater so it isn't as bad as Izaya tends to make it out to be.

After all, Izaya is the one who moves closer, head resting on Shizuo's shoulder—for warmth, he may as well pretend to add, since Shizu-chan's apartment is too cold to go without something to keep him from freezing to death. It doesn't lead to stopping the other hand that threads through his hair or the deep sigh that follows. Neither does it end the hand that strokes at the nape of Izaya's neck, moving with the same breaths that press into Shizuo's throat.

Another hour or two passes, rising into early morning sunshine by the time Shizuo wakes again, mainly due to the ache in his stomach fussing around and another unsteady trip to the bathroom to empty nothing into a toilet bowl. He can dream, but no matter what he seems to do, the nausea doesn't spare any sympathy at all. The only awareness is the bile when he brushes out his teeth again, disgusted by the stench rotting his brain coming from his mouth and wonders if Izaya doesn't like to kiss in mornings because of the taste. Which is insulting, because it's not _that_ bad compared to this shit.

He glances back to the bedroom, arm coming to wrap around his stomach and he feels awful, breathing through his mouth in hoarse rasps because his nose is too stuffed up to breathe through it. Head pounding and the general sense of malaise sinking into his bones, Shizuo decides it's better to take a shower by himself while Izaya is still asleep to avoid the trouble of becoming sick on the flea. Just needing a couple moments to right himself, and maybe wait out the stomachache for the day if the flea leaves before Shizuo comes out and denies ever being there. Shizuo, for the life of him, doesn't understand what the point is.

Hot water spurts from the shower after an unpleasant encounter with ice cold waters piped in from Antarctica, filling the room with slow-rising curls of steam. Getting in means still keeping an arm around his stomach, grimacing with the motions that trigger angry pinches in muscles when he moves, breathing shallow breaths to keep from letting the nausea rise in his throat. Being weakened to the state of having to hold onto the wall to keep from doubling over with shaking knees is degrading in every worst way. The slick feeling of nausea rides every churn of his flesh and Shizuo decides to stand still, leaning into the spray of heat when he feels too exhausted to bend and grab for his soap.

A stupid stomach bug. That's all this is, and bringing the beast of Ikebukuro to a pitiful halt in a shower, strangely still spurting hot water in what he almost thinks is Izaya's fault. Izaya wouldn't do something like that—like the flea actually gives a shit. Not in any world he knows of, besides having sex or being an overall nuisance. Even in the rare times of cuddling, Shizuo doubts it with any sincerity held for the flea, at least still there besides the confusing cuddle-hate Izaya provides of still being in an odd relationship. Plenty of turns and Izaya high-tailing when things get difficult, but still the same old slippery bastard.

Minutes tick by and Shizuo doesn't worry about why the shower heat doesn't taper off, focusing on trying to not think of anything. His stomach still churns uncomfortably, no matter how much he clenches with one arm and soothes the cramping with the hot water. In short, he feels miserable and aching with some room to breathe after the steam invades his nose, pounding headache subsiding for now.

In the moments of forgetting himself, Shizuo doesn't hear the bathroom door click open (although never being locked or shut in the first place, hasty in vomiting as quickly as possible into the toilet) or the padding footsteps over his clothes shed on the floor. Not until the shower curtain slides and Shizuo is in a dream-like state of weary darkness, eyes fluttered shut and soft pants from never getting enough air does he notice the skin brushing against his shoulder.

"Shizu-chan is taking all the hot water." Izaya grumbles, head against Shizuo's shoulder and seemingly unaware of the stomachache forcing Shizuo's arm to his stomach. The flea sits in the leftovers of the hot water brushing against Shizuo's back, hair getting wet and sticking to his face with his eyes closed. Shizuo watches, forgetting for a minute where they are and just focusing on a point of Izaya's black hair. It's getting a little long—he doesn't really mind, as long as he can run his fingers through it.

Talking sounds risky, especially if the nausea still curls sickly in his stomach. He does, low in voice and barely scratching his throat with the sound. "What are you doing in here, flea? You don't wake up for another hour." Shizuo's free hand touches the nape of Izaya's neck, pushing away wet strands while tracing into the skin.

"Shizu-chan is mean enough to wake me up on my day off," the informant replies haughtily, pulling away to grab at the soap. Shizuo snorts to himself, leaning against the back wall with another bubbling roll of his stomach attempting to turn itself inside-out. Izaya doesn't notice, which makes more sense, because he's not one for sentiments.

Izaya showers, Shizuo finishing up but reluctant to move any further when he's already clean, wanting to keep the steam fighting his headache. The throbs slip between his skull and brain, pounding with dull aches echoing down to the bridge of his nose and splitting his forehead in half. Watching Izaya to pass the time, the stomachache refuses to leave and the threat of throwing up again is starting to become too tangible to bear.

"Hey, hurry up." Shizuo gives a warning in such, receiving an indignant look while the flea slows his pace just for pissing off the beast, lips curling into a snarl.

"If Shizu-chan wants the bathroom," Izaya counters, dunking his head in the spray, "then you should've considered that earlier when you woke me up."

Shizuo feels his cheeks burning and salt coating the back of his throat. He doesn't want to throw up again—it's not a pleasant experience. "I didn't mean to. Besides, my bed, my apartment. Get over yourself."

Izaya scoffs, ignoring him and Shizuo decides it's not worth fighting about. Moving to the edge of the shower Shizuo steps out, wrapping a towel around his waist and leaving without another word to the ungrateful bastard, too ill to care. Focusing on anything else but getting out of the bathroom is too much to consider in one horrible morning.

When Shizuo finishes throwing up for the fifth or sixth time today, Izaya's footsteps behind him thunder loudly in his ears. No matter how quiet the flea is, leaning over the sink to wash out his mouth is pounding in his ears as blood rushes. The smell and taste of vomit keeps him drudged with malaise, figuring today isn't worth being alive for.

"So that's what Shizu-chan was complaining about." Still wet from the shower, Izaya is dressed in normal clothes with a towel around his neck. "Should have just said something, or stopped eating all those sweets, Shizu-chan." Of course, finding anything to poke at is his greatest hobby.

Shizuo is too tired to complain, waving Izaya off with little more than a shrug, arm around his stomach when he trudges to the couch. Leaving Izaya by himself in his apartment is a dangerous maneuver and in a saner mindset he would've been slightly concerned for the sound of water coming from the sink. Abruptly the faucet turns off, Izaya making some sort of hissing noise which sounds intriguing enough to ask what the flea thinks he's doing. Shizuo abandons the idea in favor of remaining still, not wanting to upset his stomach even further.

"Does Shizu-chan have any water bottles?" Izaya spits, sounding frustrated and for the life of Shizuo, he can't imagine why the flea bothers coming here if he hates it so much. The click of the refrigerator alerts the blond to Izaya checking his refrigerator, too tired and aching to care. He'll get revenge later, if he beats off whatever is bothering him.

More scuffling, Izaya reaching up to a cabinet and looking for something in specific, moving to the drawers below the counter when huffing in disappointment. Something that sounds like a bottle of pills makes a clicking noise with the sound of pills being shaken, Izaya probably just annoying Shizuo now for the fun of it.

"Flea," Shizuo lies against the arm of the couch, feet up and curling forward with a shudder. So the chills are starting in now.

Izaya strides over with two water bottles in hand, several fingers of his hand curling around small objects Shizuo can't see. "Shizu-chan's drinking water is contaminated with something. Get that fixed, ne?" Uncurling Shizuo's fingers with his own, he drops two green pills onto the flesh and the water bottle onto Shizuo's lap. "You'll owe me for this." Izaya gives him a look, moving Shizuo's legs to bend up and apart, resting between them. "And since you're warm, you can start now."

Shizuo snorts, rolling his eyes when he swallows the pills with a gulp of water chasing after. Izaya could have poisoned him, which he doubts highly, because the flea has an obsession for heat. And if he's doing this, it may as well not be as bad. "You sure that's it? Almost thought you liked me or something."

"Nope." Izaya shakes his head, pretending to ignore the arm that wraps around his waist and pulls him a little closer.

It takes an hour when Izaya already falls asleep again, never having normal enough sleeping hours, for Shizuo to realize that the pills are anti-nausea tablets.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. (.=^・ェ・^=)
> 
> Companion to: [A Terrible Case of the Sniffles](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3340625).


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